"sobukwe" poems - Hello Poetry

a sluggish but proud zulu man stopped me in my trek to no- where as my fingers searched for a grip in the dehydrated sou- thern sand. he held a leather-bound book with the words “the holy bible” struggling to stay embedded. befitting resemblance of the seminar he gave me; scuffling through testimonies and biblical verses that lead into various explanations which were suspected. i asked him if he believed anything he had just said. he confessed, he’d been questioning everything he had memorised and read. he guided me into a tangent about his distain for the greedy and the need for the restoration of his ancestors land. i asked why black people get massacred when we articulate our desire for economic empowerment and grass. he listed to me everything which he was taught was wrong with the indigenous people, which, supposedly, justified the past. i stopped him in his own trek through self-hate, anguish and pity and i said this to him, “if you change the way black people think, you change the way white people get money...” -t.m

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Jun 1, 2018

Jun 1, 2018 at 3:19 PM UTC

05tm

Sobukwe’s Claws (a dying lion)

a sluggish but proud zulu man stopped me in my trek to no- where as my fingers searched for a grip in the dehydrated sou- thern sand. he held a leather-bound book with the words “the holy bible” struggling to stay embedded. befitting resemblance of the seminar he gave me; scuffling through testimonies and biblical verses that lead into various explanations which were suspected. i asked him if he believed anything he had just said. he confessed, he’d been questioning everything he had memorised and read. he guided me into a tangent about his distain for the greedy and the need for the restoration of his ancestors land. i asked why black people get massacred when we articulate our desire for economic empowerment and grass. he listed to me everything which he was taught was wrong with the indigenous people, which, supposedly, justified the past. i stopped him in his own trek through self-hate, anguish and pity and i said this to him, “if you change the way black people think, you change the way white people get money...” -t.m

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Life nowadays is just instagram Back then our ancestors had to write telegrams The golden generation engulfed in black mist They shoot cold heat While I watch it all through uncertain eyes Steve Biko with a pen Robert Sobukwe with paper in a den It haunts me Great God,I'm tied in a knot Great God,they fear not I walk free,still fearful I'm a refugee in my own smile Steve Biko,Robert Sobukwe died for a cause My generation is cursed We are on pause In the paws of a ruined future As long as I still have my pen and paper I'm a poet for a cause

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Nov 5, 2014

Nov 5, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC

SnipthePoeticOne

Steve Biko With a Pen

Life nowadays is just instagram Back then our ancestors had to write telegrams The golden generation engulfed in black mist They shoot cold heat While I watch it all through uncertain eyes Steve Biko with a pen Robert Sobukwe with paper in a den It haunts me Great God,I'm tied in a knot Great God,they fear not I walk free,still fearful I'm a refugee in my own smile Steve Biko,Robert Sobukwe died for a cause My generation is cursed We are on pause In the paws of a ruined future As long as I still have my pen and paper I'm a poet for a cause

18

Life nowadays is just instagram Back than our parents had to write telegrams The Golden generation engulfed in black mist They shoot cold heat While I watch it all through uncertain eyes Steve Biko with a pen Robert Sobukwe with paper in a den It haunts me Great God,I'm tied in a knot Great God,they fear not I walk free fearful I am a refugee in my own smile Steve Biko,Robert Sobukwe died for a cause My generation is cursed We are on pause In the paws of a ruined future As long as I still have my pen and paper I am a poet for a cause

0

Mar 1, 2015

Mar 1, 2015 at 3:50 PM UTC

SnipthePoeticOne

4_7_7 Golden generation

Life nowadays is just instagram Back than our parents had to write telegrams The Golden generation engulfed in black mist They shoot cold heat While I watch it all through uncertain eyes Steve Biko with a pen Robert Sobukwe with paper in a den It haunts me Great God,I'm tied in a knot Great God,they fear not I walk free fearful I am a refugee in my own smile Steve Biko,Robert Sobukwe died for a cause My generation is cursed We are on pause In the paws of a ruined future As long as I still have my pen and paper I am a poet for a cause

18